The fabulous adventures of an Icelander stuck in Copenhagen
by Styrlaugr
Summary: AU. This is basically what happens when Iceland gets stuck working in a shop with an odd Norwegian with a fokked up Danish ex. I put humor as a genre because I find it funny, I've got no idea if it actually is though.


Okay then.  
For once he was happy. Or at least he had every right to be.  
Understand that he'd finally gotten away from his overprotective mother and settled down in Copenhagen.

Well, not really settled down yet. It was the 7th of August and he first got the keys to his study apartment the day before he started school. Which would be the 13th of August. A Monday.  
So at the time being he lived at a cheep hotel.

He looked up, his eyes travelling across the facades of the many old buildings making up central Copenhagen. He had to admit the city was pretty charming in its own way, though way bigger and very different from Reykjavik, where he used to live.

It was a Tuesday morning, so the streets of Copenhagen were full of life. At least Eiríkur thought so. He wasn't used to too many people around him. His hotel was in the other end of town, so he had taken a bus here, and he just needed to walk for about five minutes to arrive at work.

He glanced at his watch. He'd be there ten minutes too early, but it was probably wise not to be late on his first day at work.

Until he started school he would work from 10 to 18. He had to earn some money.  
After that he wouldn't have too much time to work, with his late schooldays and lots of studying to do. But he still needed money anyways. Therefore he had to fit in as much work as he could when he had the slightest bit of free time. He really did hope this wouldn't get him too stressed out too quickly, he didn't intend on going back to Iceland anytime soon.

As he arrived outside the shop that was his new work, he stopped to turn of the music he had had playing on his phone and took his ear buds out. He took a deep breath as he walked through the door. As he stepped into the store, he looked around seeing different areas with computers, phones and accessories lining the walls. To his right he saw the counter where a young man with blonde hair held back with a… Is that a hair clip..? Wait. Iceland thought as he let his eye run over the person again, no that person was definitely male, he has no boobs. After a few seconds of staring he shook his head slightly and strolled over to the counter. He might as well introduce himself, no need to be rude on his first day. He could do that tomorrow.

As he was only a few steps from the counter, the man finally looked up at him from the magazine he'd been reading, "Illustreret Videnskab" or something like that. Eiríkur wasn't the best at reading Danish up-side-down while pretending he didn't read it, but he was pretty sure he'd gotten it right. He'd seen the magazine in the airport as well after landing, it seemed quite interesting, something about science and stuff.

"We haven't opened yet. We open at ten. It's nine fifty." The boy behind the counter spoke up. He really didn't sound as girlish as he looked, Eiríkur noted while lifting an eyebrow at the other, who did the same back. They looked like mirror images the way they looked at each other, though as Eiríkur mentally stated: One looked like a girl and the other was just cool. Take your pick at who is who.

He realised that the boy probably thought he was a customer. So much for trying not to be rude on his first day, the other really did make that hard.  
"I'm not here to buy your shit, if that's what you thought," is what he was just about the say, but he changed his words at the last second, fearing to be fired before even starting his work, on his first day. That would really be something to write home about, huh? I believe his mom would be /so/ proud at her son's ability to piss everyone off. Even if it was their own fault for pissing him off in the first place.

"I'm the new employee," he said still holding the other's gaze. Neither had made any move, so naturally they were still staring at each other, both apparently being too stubborn to look away first.  
It seemed like it took a few moments for the other to realise just what Eiríkur had said.  
"It never even crossed my mind," the other said, tilting his head slightly.  
What exactly did he mean by that..? What did this.. He looked at his nametag… "Lukas", mean..?  
"You look like a little boy, I didn't expect a minor." ..Oh so that was what he meant. Eiríkur mentally face palmed at the comment, yes, he did indeed make it hard for him. Probably even on purpose.  
And what did he mean by minor? Wasn't that just a term to express that a girl didn't yet have a fake ID to reassure you that she was over 18..?  
It wasn't like you could be a minor when in came to alcohol in Denmark. I mean, they didn't even have a minimum drinking age. Sure you had to be a specific age to drink out, but it wasn't illegal to consume alcohol. Not even for a toddler. God these Danes were odd, no wonder they all seemed kind of retarded.

Eiríkur didn't dare respond. He did not trust his mouth at this specific moment. He could end up saying a whole lot of things he'd probably regret in a few hours. So he kept his mouth shut.

When Lukas probably noticed the new boy wasn't going to respond, he held out his right hand, making a gesture towards the dull-looking door by the back of the store. Eiríkur understood that this probably had to be the "staff only" kind of room they always had in stores. It usually lead to the hidden offices, storage rooms and, of course, the staff's restroom. You know, all stores have them, but if they don't have to, they won't share them with the costumers. Only if it's a café or something, then they kinda have to.

He waited for Lukas to take the first step and initiative to go towards it, before he picked up and followed. He couldn't help but notice the way Lukas walked. It's seemed rather silent and ghost-like, not very Danish at all. Actually he probably spoke Danish with an accent too. Eiríkur most likely hadn't realised this because he had a somewhat thick Icelandic accent himself. But now he thought about it, the guy didn't sound like he was chronically sick with a throat infection while choking on a potato when he spoke. His voice was more melodic, though he couldn't imagine him bursting out into spontaneous singing at any possible, random moment. Fortunately.

Lukas pushed open the door and Eiríkur had to be quick to catch it, before it slammed shut right in his handsome face. Yes, handsome. Not pretty, not cute, let's please just stick to handsome and we'll avoid some big argument where somebody is bound to have to leave stomping their feet like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum just because he can't have his favourite liquorice.  
Though a slight pout was still present on his face when he stepped into the hallway making up the beginning of the, "you're not allowed to be here if you're not working here", area.

It was just as dull as the door leading there. Actually Eiríkur might venture as far as to say that the hallway seemed even more tedious than the door.  
He'd always sort of imagined the "hidden", "off limit" parts of the stores to be these cool awesome places where the kids who weren't old enough to work, and get a job there, couldn't go. But he now realised that that must have been some innocent dream of his that was once again shot down like a goose during the hunting season.

While Eiríkur had been busy, mentally complaining about the sudden decrease in interest the staff area offered him, Lukas had disappeared through a door to the left. The mildly bored, and now suddenly a bit annoyed, teen stuck his head through the door and got a glimpse of the older guy's ass. Well not on purpose, he wasn't here to stare at nice asses. Wait, scratch that, that sounds kinda gay. And he'd been called gay enough times already, just because he was thin-ish and had a freaking sense of personal style, opposed to most others.

Basically Lukas had his head buried in some box that seemed to contain fabric, and true enough, a few seconds later he turned around with an ugly blue polo shirt with logo. "..In the name of Odin, you don't expect me to wear that, do you? The cut will look ridiculous with these pants…" Eiríkur was actually gaping in horror at the shirt from hell while gesturing at the jeans he was wearing. Lukas simply tsked and threw the shirt at him. He caught it midair, right before it hit his face. No way anything other than the stupid wind was gonna mess up his hair even more. "I pull it off rather well, it's not my fault if you're unable to." He was actually rolling his eyes as he said so.  
..He definitely wasn't gonna make it easy for the temperamental teen.


End file.
